I wrote this poem for my Fall 2019 creative writing class, and it went on to win the First Year Writing Prize and the Alice Brandt Deeds ‘45 Creative Writing Prize.
après moi, le déluge.
His aqueous orbit is mesmerizing.
Floating up to the surface then
Submerging again.
Spines prickling
Snout twitching
Tail swishing.
In the black water of the swimming pool, he is
Hungry. He means
Business.
I am frozen, stricken as I see him
Through shredded palmettos.
I have a choice.
Days ago
In the flashlight glow
I took a sharpie and wrote
Three numbers dash
Two numbers dash
Four numbers
Across my collarbone.
Identification. Shoulder to
Shoulder I am a number. Then
10/29/79 across my
Stomach. A
Sequence.
Neither of us know
How we ended up
Here, in the
Desecrated sacristy of a
Swimming pool, and
sitting Indian style on the
Jagged concrete altar at its edge.
Alone. Pondering death.
I watched
The rain
First hit
Softly
Against the
Window.
I watched
The lights
Flicker.
if you stay, write your social security
number on your chest,
so we can identify your body.
I was not a bloated cadaver
Floating down the
Road. I only crouched
On the roof
On the third day of rain,
Kicking away the
Water’s edge.
In the end it didn’t matter.
What didn’t wash away was
Looted.
How can you prove what you own?
Keep from restless drifting, like
Tangled ribbons of fire ants
Swarming in the surge?
Eye to reptilian eye.
We were never supposed to be here.
He doesn’t belong here. Now, neither
do I.
I swing my feet in.
A tail smacks the water.
I taste snot on my lip.
Neck deep in black water.
Cicadas and frogs sing in the beating sun.
Not a soul around.
We lock eyes
And I
Brace.